


Condition #3

by moor



Series: Tumblr request [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fun, Pre-Shodaime-era AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:45:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: Pre-Shodaime-era AU. MadaSaku. NSFW. (Illustrated!)





	Condition #3

**Author's Note:**

> suruchi11 asked: Hey.. I am fan of your writings. I just found out, that u r accepting requests. Can you please write something on madasaku b4 shodaime era. or some itasakukaka (both romance n bit of lime n lemon).
> 
> Pairing/Moresome: MadaSaku
> 
> Setting: Pre-Shodaime Era  
> Rating: M/R
> 
> AN: Thank you for the message! I was taking requests on Sept 1, 2017, yes. I think yours came in a few days later, @suruchi11. Sorry it has taken me a little bit of time to get to it. Hope this is okay! (Also, full disclosure, not my best work and OOC af since I rushed through this this afternoon, but I wanted to get it out ASAP!)  
> \---------------------------------------------------  
> FANART ALERT! Check out yomi-gaeru's gorgeous (NSFW) fanart for this story! http://beyondthemoor.tumblr.com/post/165652777718/madasaku-fanart-nsfw-thank-you-yomi-gaeru-3
> 
> Thank you so much, yomi-gaeru! These are gorgeous!

The chakra thrummed through Sakura’s internal pathways, alongside her arteries and veins and just as necessary to her survival. Especially when dealing with the shinobi across from her.

“You healed a Senju! You healed HIM!” he shouted, the accusation shaking the walls and windows with its violence.

“I heal the injured and ill who request my help. I am affiliated with no clan,” said Sakura, forcing herself to appear calm as the man paced restlessly through her makeshift waiting room. The oft-repaired, mismatched seats were old, hand-hewn from the local trees and sported more patches than their original upholstery at that point. But they were enough for her ramshackle, yet state-of-the-art clinic, which remained isolated outside every clan and village boundary. A dangerous, near suicidal position for any regular shinobi or civilian.

Haruno Sakura was neither.

… the clinic’s neutrality did have its draw-backs, however… especially in the form of a certain paranoid, jealous clan head.

“You use Senju techniques, though. It all make sense now. You’re their spy! That’s why you remain outside their clan stronghold, so you can gather intelligence to send back to them!”

“I am not a member of the Senju clan, nor am I a spy. I healed a shinobi who was brought to me by his team when they were too far from home to reach a healer. I do not favour any clan, or even favour clans themselves, over any injured person!”

Her voice rose and sharpened at the end, and with her chest heaving, Sakura took deep breaths to calm herself. This man always brought out the worst of her anger and frustration, without exception.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, straightening her back and shoulders. He wouldn’t show up merely to complain. That would be ridiculous.

She crossed her arms over her middle, waiting for his reply.

There was a heavy pause before Uchiha Madara glared at her once more before straightening.

He lifted his chin.

“I’ve come to extend you an invitation to join the Uchiha clan as our main healer.” At her unimpressed, silent response, he added, “It is rumoured you’re proficient in the healing arts. More than proficient; your skills rival the best healers on the continent.”

“Hmmm,” nodded Sakura in an interested tone as she circled the small waiting room. She deliberately avoided entering Madara’s personal space. “This is true.”

She reached for the door that led outside her clinic, and opened it wide.

“Get out,” she said.

Madara stared at her, brow furrowed.

“That wasn’t a request,” she added. “No one speaks to me that way. Get out.”

His expression darkening, Madara bore down on Sakura.

“If you think this is funny—”

“If you want me to stop treating your fellow clansmen, you’re going about it the exact right way,” said Sakura evenly, holding the door open wider to let in the chilly autumn evening’s air. It was a bluff since she knew she would never turn away anyone wounded, but the taunt may be the only way to get rid of the man belittling, insulting and intimidating her in her own home. “Is this how the Uchiha treat their benefactors? With condescension, spite and threats?”

She held her ground, glaring up at him. He towered over her petite frame with his broad shoulders and wild, loose, dark hair. His looming invaded her personal space as he tried to back her up against her door, yet she stood firm, returning his heavy mood with her outright intolerance of his behaviour. She would not be pushed around her own home by a bully, or anyone else for that matter. It was beyond her in that moment how such an awful man could have become one of the founders of her beloved Konoha. Outside his jutsu, was there any redeeming quality to him?

But damn his beautiful eyes. Even as they pinned her in place, there was something captivating and lovely and familiar to them. She blamed her infantile crush on a certain other former Uchiha, the one she believed had sent her back to this strange time before Konoha’s founding. But that was another matter. The Sharingan intrigued her and she would have given much for the opportunity to study them in depth. Unfortunately they were part and parcel of the asshole on her doorstep… the asshole, thankfully, departing her home and workplace.

With one foot still inside her doorway, he leaned over her, directly into her face as he rested his palm against the door beside her throat, bringing attention to her vulnerability. The warmth emanating from his hand and arm raised goosebumps along her arms and left a small shimmy of warning between her shoulder blades.

“This isn’t over.”

“Until you learn to respect non-Uchiha, yes, it is,” said Sakura. “If your clansmen are in need of care, I will heal them to the best of my abilities. But you are not welcome here.”

They faced off another moment longer before Uchiha Madara stalked off into the ancient oak trees that surrounded her cottage and clinic.

*****

It was stupid and the moment she did it she knew she was starting trouble, but Sakura was just too tired at that point to mind her reaction in such a public place.

Catching sight of Uchiha Madara and several of his advisors in the local market of a nearby town where she had been bartering for supplies, Sakura’s calm facade slipped—she rolled her eyes and turned back to the vendor with whom she did business.

That was all it took; that minute movement, the rudeness of it, the slight against such a powerful clan head.

First it was whispers.

Then it was silent.

Then the vendor before her glanced up as a shadow fell across them, and the vendor’s eyes widened and she slowly backed away, leaving Sakura alone in the middle of a wide, empty circle in the marketplace, the crowds quiet and tense.

*****

Madara was unsure whether to admire the medic’s bravery in meeting his eyes or dismiss her as mentally defective. It may have even been a bit of both as he approached her, leaving his advisors behind him with a gesture of his hand.

“Haruno,” he greeted. “Was there something you wished to discuss with me?”

“Have you come to apologize?” she asked, turning away from the vendor and walking towards Madara.   
Distancing herself from the innocent bystanders, he realized. She didn’t trust him to control himself around others.

Her words had created a small swell in the whispering, however. She and Madara had quarreled? He had wronged her? The mutterings ran rampant.  
It was well known that Sakura aided all who fell across her threshold, regardless of their affiliation. That the head of the Uchiha clan had apparently disrespected her was spreading fast. This would not bode well for the clan.

“Have you come around to accept my generous offer?” he countered, trying to control the flow of information that was falling on public ears. He strode closer to her.

“My answer will always be no,” she snarled, meeting him step for step.

“Allying yourself with a clan will protect you from many enemies.” He stopped directly in front of Sakura.  
“Joining with one will earn me more,” she lifted her chin and glared down her nose at him.

“You would earn the prestige of the Uchiha—”

“I would feed you arsenic in your tea—”

Then, to their horror, an anonymous voice called out,

“Kami, would you two get a room!”

Sakura and Madara froze as a hesitant giggle passed through the crowd.

Then another.

It got louder.

“That’s… that’s not…” Sakura struggled to find the words. Because the concept was so ludicrous, so heinous, so vile, so absolutely, positively batshit insane—  
Madara seized her arm and they disappeared in a poof of smoke.

… so absolutely going to be a rumour after this.

*****

“This is all your fault!”

“Calm down and—”

“Let go of me now or I’m going to flatten you and everything else within a radius of—”

“We should do as the villagers said.”

Sakura gaped at Madara.

He released her arm as she stood frozen in place.

“Have you lost your mind? Honestly. If so, I may be able to help,” said Sakura. She left it as ‘may’ as she wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t mangle his brains accidentally-on-purpose.

Madara glared at her and let out a long, low breath as he reached for patience he normally only required when dealing with Hashirama’s absurdist bullshit.

“Think for a moment what it would mean,” he said, folding his arms in front of him.

“I already offered to examine your—”  
“If we partner, romantically. Hashirama will make you an honourary Senju—with your healing techniques they probably already want to claim you, especially since you healed Tobirama—you and I marry, the Uchiha ally with the Senju, we stop the war, we found a village together to promote peace and you get to be a healer,” listed Madara, pacing back and forth in the clearing they appeared in. “This is perfect. Let’s go find an officiant and Hashirama.”

“Wh-what? What are you talking about?” asked Sakura, confused by the nonchalance Madara exuded, as if this negotiation and talk of peaceful merger were perfectly in character for him.

“The plan. Our plan. Hashirama and I have been trying to find ways of ending this war for ages. You could be it.”

“I’m not a pawn in a war—”

“No, you’re a means to peace.”

The birdsong continued in the shadowy canopy above them, the wind rustling the leaves in the heavy-boughed forest surrounding them. Still, Sakura stared at Madara.

“You alleviate the suffering of so many affected by this war. Imagine how much of that suffering you could prevent,” said Madara. It wasn’t a plea, but rather a request for consideration.

“I feel like this is manipulation,” said Sakura.

Madara’s shoulders stiffened slightly.

“It is a means to peace. Of course it is manipulation. I enjoy sparring with my equals, not slaughtering unworthy adversaries who are barely old enough to tie or buckle their own bogu,” said Madara. “A battlefield is no place for children,” he added more quietly.

Sakura paced the clearing, too, glancing over at Madara as she considered his words.

“Are children part of this deal, or would this be a marriage in name only?”

Madara’s chin lifted, his face lighting with hope.

“I…” His voice trailed off.

Sakura watched his brows drawing together, his lips pressing together as he fell into deep thought.

“You want a wife and children,” she deduced aloud. “Family is important to you.”

“I am the last of my line. I would like to pass on my knowledge to another,” he said.

His feet slowed in their pacing as he looked at the trees around them.

“We owe those who come after us, who continue our line. We need to leave them a legacy better than the one we were raised in,” said Madara.

Sakura, having grown up in that legacy, wondered about that.

“One can create a beautiful paradise, but one cannot control what is done to, or with, that paradise after one’s passing,” said Sakura.

The wind brushed Madara’s hair into his face, hiding it from Sakura, yet she heard his words clearly.

“Did I misjudge you? Do you prefer to profit from this war, then?”

She narrowed her eyes, her hands balling into fists.

“I never accepted money in payment for my services. If anyone brought anything to me, it was in thanks, never in payment. Even my supplies I earn by trading services for goods. I have no wealth.”

“You seek only to help those around you,” said Madara.

“I seek to improve the lives of those around me,” said Sakura.

She sighed, releasing her fists.

“Which is why,” she said, looking up at him. “I accept.”

*****

“On one condition,” she added when she had his attention. “No, two. Three. Yes, three.”

Madara raised an eyebrow, but Sakura nodded her head.

“What conditions?”

“First,” Sakura said, looking around and taking a seat on a knobbly tree root nearby. She gestured across from here and Madara joined her. “I would like an apology for your behaviour.”  
Madara tilted his chin before nodding. “I apologize for insulting you and making demands of you.”

“Thank you. Second, I would like the opportunity to examine your Sharingan. There are defects in it, correct? That it affects a person’s vision over time and use? That there is supposedly a curse attached to it?”

At this Madara narrowed his eyes, his hands clenching in the heavy cotton of his trousers. “How do you know this?”

“I once worked alongside a Sharingan-wielder. For a time, I was his medic, too,” said Sakura.

“Were you close?” asked Madara, his teeth clenching.

Sakura’s eyes widened at his jealous tone. “Not…in that way. We were teammates. And children.”

He searched her eyes for any sign of deceit but found none. He nodded, relaxing once more.

“Do you have any conditions?”

“I would appreciate not being murdered in my sleep. You may attack me when I am awake at any time, however I prefer to sleep undisturbed.”

“That’s fair,” agreed Sakura.

“Your third condition,” he asked.

Sakura looked him in the eye.

“Before we sign anything, we ensure we are compatible.”

Madara raised a brow.

“Sexually,” clarified Sakura, exasperated. “I’m not giving up my freedom to someone who’s a terrible sexual partner.”

“That won’t be an issue,” assured Madara smugly.

Sakura crossed one toned leg over the other and cocked her head.

“… Prove it.”

*****

Late that afternoon Hashirama received a raven at his window; it came bearing a familiar styled missive.

> “Friend,   
> I’ve found the answer. You know of the medic Haruno’s fine reputation, I trust? She has agreed to be adopted by the Senju, and then to marry me. We will then unite the clans and found our village. We anticipate a respectable engagement, to give both sides ample time to get accustomed to the peace treaty we will sign. We look forward to your cooperation.   
> Regards, UM.”

It was strange to read such promising news from his oldest friend, but Hashirama smiled in anticipation. This would be a blessing for all involved, though he was mildly concerned that Madara had coerced the medic in some fashion. The long engagement was wonderful, however, and would give all a chance to adapt to the pending peace treaty. What wonderful news!

Less than an hour later, as Hashirama was drafting a public notice to advise his clan of the possibility of an inter-clan wedding, another tap-tap-tapping sounded at his window. Lo and behold, there sat another intelligent raven staring back at him.

Confused and concerned at the rapid arrival of the second bird, he relieved it of its missive and read the latest message.

Had something gone wrong with the plan already, he wondered.

His eyes lit upon the message enclosed.

> “Friend,   
> I feel a prolonged engagement may imply hesitation on both our parts. It would be best if we married within the week. Friday morning at the latest.  
>  Regards, UM.”

Somewhat perplexed, but trusting Madara in his plan, Hashirama returned to his desk and threw out the document he’d painstakingly drafted, already mentally revising it. Well, marrying sooner would demonstrate their confidence in the matter, wouldn’t it?…

Thirty minutes later, yet another raven tapped imperiously at Hashirama’s window, and this time the Senju’s shoulders slumped as he retrieved the missive. What on Earth was going on…

Pouring himself a glass of something strong and bracing, he popped the seal on the note, dismissed the privacy jutsus, and stared.

> “Meet us at her place in an hour. We’ll backdate the Senju-adoption paperwork later. Bring an officiant and a witness, and spare all extravagance. Tell my clan no in-fighting until I get back from my honeymoon, which I’m leaving for as soon as we finish this elopement. Don’t bother with your good robes, just hurry. UM.”

Hashirama had barely finished reading it when another raven swooped onto his desk and dropped a note which immediately unfurled and read,

> “Why aren’t you here yet? UM.”

Hashirama stared.

… and then blushed profusely as he noted the handprint on the back of the paper and the hasty handwriting and smudges…

*****

“Your gentlemanly consideration of my reputation is lovely, but unnecessary,” gasped Sakura, her face pressed against the pillow beneath her head as she gripped the bedsheets tighter. “The wedding could have waited while—ngh, yes!—while we got to know each other.”

“No,” snarled Madara, his long-fingered hands gripping Sakura’s naked hips tight enough to bruise. “You’re mine, and no one else is allowed to look at you like I do because we’ll be married and I’ll be your husband. Mmmf, that’s it, that’s—”

He made a guttural sound that sent shivers down Sakura’s back—this time, they were the delicious shivers that made her back arch and her inner core squeeze and—

Madara swore and praised her with equal fervour, causing Sakura to smile smugly into the pillow.

She felt him lean down over her, pressing her font down into the mattress as he caressed her sides and kissed up her spine to her throat.

“I like condition number three,” he murmured hungrily against her skin.

Sakura pressed her back into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Me too,” she said with a happy sigh as he made love to her.

*****

Hashirama knocked on the door to Sakura’s cottage again, louder, his face red and the officiant half-asleep beside him.

“Madara!” he called over the rather loud, passionate cries of the pair inside. “This is… We’re here! Could you please come out, just for a few minutes?”

“It won’t take long,” assured the officiant. “Tell them we already signed everything.”

“We already signed everything!”

“Nnnngh… not…. Now,” growled Madara from within.

“How about I just start and they call out the important parts?”

“That works,” agreed Hashirama. “Let me get the witness.”

“Is that a raven?”

“It’s reliable at relaying information.”

The officiant raised his eyes towards the starry sky, as if seeking a sign.

The raven cawed.

“Good enough,” sighed the old man. “Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today…”  
  
 **THE END**


End file.
